


Deserving

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: 'til it's Gone Series [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Depression, F/M, No Smut, Plus-Sized Reader, Self-Esteem Issues, mentions of torture, scarred reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:18:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992424
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Y/n and Dean have been together for years, but they’ve been arguing nonstop since a couple weeks after Dean came back from being Michael. THIS IS SO ANGSTY...THIS WHOLE SERIES IS SO ANGSTY!~~~~~~~~~~Sam started to round the room as Dean sat on his bed with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out as he watched his brother. Sam picked up knives and hair ties, pens and notebooks and her hunter journal from the small desk. He slammed the box down on the desk and turned to Dean. “You know there are better ways you could’ve done this, Dean.”Dean looked up at him, tiredly. “Oh, really?”“Yes! A hundred better ways that wouldn’t leave her destroyed like this.”“First, she’ll be fine. She’s strong as fuck.” Dean leaned forward, kicking his feet over the side of his bed, which still smelled like y/n. “Second, it had to be this way. Because this way, she’s gone and she’s not coming back. It’s over this way.” Sam shook his head in disbelief. “If she’d stuck around to be your bestie or Cas and Jack’s hunting partner… I know me, Sam, I’da ended up in bed with her again and then I’d have to deal with the morning after. It’s better if she’s just gone.”





	Deserving

**Author’s Note: **Written for [@georgialouisea](https://tmblr.co/mJrgIjkKfSmYPJlS-69YeKA)‘s 2K Quote Challenge on tumblr. I picked the FRIENDS quote ‘We were on a break!’. This was meant to be a light, funny fic and it just… I’m so sorry for the amount of angst in this fic… except, you know… it’s what I’m good at. No gifs are mine. Oh, and as angels are genderless, I use the pronouns appropriate to their vessel. **SPOILERS FOR SEASON 14!**

**Pairing(s): **Dean x Plus-sized Reader

**Story Warnings**: so much angst it’s not even okay, kinda cheating, breakups, scars, self-esteem issues, Michael!Dean, character death (events of 14x08), the events of 14x09…

* * *

You stomped after Dean, fury on your face as the two of you entered the library of the Bunker. Castiel looked up, instantly uncomfortable with his friends’ human drama. The two of you had been fighting for three days straight, Cas wasn’t sure about what, and he was certain that you’d broken off your relationship the night before, but here you were, fighting again.

“Cas, you’ve got a perfect memory,” Dean said, coming to a stop in front of the angel, whose eyes went wide. “What was the last thing Y/n said before she threw her hands up like a toddler and stomped out of here last night?”

Castiel looked between the hunters. “Uh…”

“_I’m _a toddler?! At least I didn’t run to my best friend for help justifying-”

“That’s ‘cause you’re a bitch and you don’t have any friends.”

“I have friends!”

“Name _one_…and Sam and the hunters you talk to online don’t count.”

“Why not? They’re real people who like me so-”

“Cas! Come on,” Dean called out as the angel started to slink away.

Cas sighed and turned back to them. “I believe her words were…‘Fuck you, Dean. If you want a break, we’re on one’.”

“Ha! See?” Dean turned to you. “We were on a break!”

“Dean, I don’t think-” Cas started as your mouth turned down in anger and disgust.

“You know what? Fine, _Ross_, we were on a break, so what you did wasn’t cheating.” Dean’s look of victory was cut short as you continued. “It was just a terrible, shitty thing to do to me.”

“Oh, come-”

“You couldn’t wait six fuckin’ hours for me to calm down, cool off and come home? No, you had to go pick up some bar skank and take _her _home to-”

“I was drunk!” Dean defended, throwing his hands up.

“So was I! But _I_ managed to make it home without scratch marks down my back! Why didn’t _you_?!”

“Oh, the only reason you didn’t get fucked was because men don’t generally go to bars to pick up scarred-up fat chicks,” Dean spat out, nastily.

And just like that the fight was over, all anger being washed out of you by a wave of pain as Dean stabbed both of your weak points with one sentence. You blinked at Dean, your breath frozen in your lungs. You could see the moment he realized he’d gone too far, but you just looked away. “Oh. Okay. I…” You nodded, before rushing past Cas and running up the spiral staircase.

“y/n-” Dean called, but he was met with the sound of the Bunker door creaking closed. He wished you would have yelled at him, screamed, shouted, hit him, hurt him… fuck, he wouldn’t have been too upset if you shot him after that comment, that would’ve meant you were pissed. But you weren’t pissed. You were hurt and it was on him.

“Dean. Go after her,” Cas demanded.

Dean took a deep breath and shook his head. “No, man. Not after that. Gotta give her time to-” He rubbed his fingers over his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “-get pissed off about it.”

“And if she doesn’t ‘get pissed off’?” Cas asked, his words stilted. “If she stays depressed and in pain? What then, Dean?”

Dean looked down. “Then, at least the fight’s over.”

“As well as your relationship.”

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure _that _was over the moment I stuck my dick in that hourglass blond from the roadhouse on Route 32.”

“Why?” Castiel shook his head. “Why would you have sex with someone other than Y/n?”

Dean licked his lips and walked over to the whiskey in the crystal bottle. “Because, Cas…it’s…” He picked up the bottle and filled a crystal tumbler. “I just…when I imagined my life…when I imagined comin’ up on forty and settling down with just one woman… it wasn’t her.”

Cas’ eyebrows tucked together in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“She’s just…I figured if I…if I got serious with a chick, it’d be with a normal one. One like Cassie, like Lisa. Y/n is…she’s hard and she’s broken and she’s the meanest bitch I’ve ever laid eyes on and that’s…I don’t think that’s what I want, Cas.”

“You did this…on purpose?”

Dean took a drink and shook his head. “No. No, I…I started the _fight _on purpose, but…I…didn’t mean to…”

“Yes, you did.” Castiel tilted his head in confusion, searching Dean’s thoughts. “You went out and found a woman who embodies every trait y/n confided that she wishes she had, and you had sex with that woman just to hurt y/n. Dean…why didn’t you just…”

“Break up with my brother’s best friend for no reason? I still…I don’t know. I mean, I wanted it over but I also didn’t want to end it.”

“Yeah, I mean, I _can_, but-Are you _sure_, Y/n?” Sam walked in, anger-tinged worry on his face as he held his cell phone to his ear. “No, I just-maybe after you calm down and think about-” He sighed and nodded. “Yeah, okay. I’ll box it up. Text me the address. Yeah, you, too. Be careful.”

Sam stared at Dean for a moment after he clicked the phone off, anger radiating from him. “Her _scars_, Dean? The one thing she’s more self-conscious about than her _weight_, which you also slammed her on! What the hell is wrong with you?”

“Why don’t you ask Cas? He seems to be an expert in why I do the things I do,” Dean responded, walking away toward his bedroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean set his drink on top of the dresser and sighed as he picked up a picture that had never found its way into a picture frame. A Polaroid of him and y/n at the South Dakota State Fair a year before. He ran his thumb over the scar on her cheek. He’d loved her scars when he first fell for her. They were badges of strength, proof that she could survive, that she could hack it in the Life. Now, they were a harsh reminder of bad times.

Sam pushed his door opened and walked in with an empty file box under his arm. “Get out,” he demanded.

“Excuse you? This is _my _room.” Dean set the picture down and picked up his drink.

“Yeah, well, I’m packin’ up y/n’s stuff for her, so get out or stay out out of my way.” Sam started to round the room as Dean sat on his bed with his back against the headboard, legs stretched out as he watched his brother. Sam picked up knives and hair ties, pens and notebooks and her hunter journal from the small desk. He slammed the box down on the desk and turned to Dean. “You know there are better ways you could’ve done this, Dean.”

Dean looked up at him, tiredly. “Oh, really?”

“_Yes_! A hundred better ways that wouldn’t leave her destroyed like this.”

“First, she’ll be fine. She’s strong as fuck.” Dean leaned forward, kicking his feet over the side of his bed, which still smelled like y/n. “Second, it _had _to be this way. Because this way, she’s gone and she’s not coming back. It’s _over _this way.” Sam shook his head in disbelief. “If she’d stuck around to be your bestie or Cas and Jack’s hunting partner…I know me, Sam, I’da ended up in bed with her again and then I’d have to deal with the morning after. It’s better if she’s just gone.”

“When the hell did you decide you didn’t want her, anymore? Because last I checked, you were over the moon for her.”

Dean looked at the glass of whiskey. “I don’t know, Sam, it’s just…ever since I’ve been back-”

“If you blame this on Michael, I swear I’m gonna punch you. This isn’t-”

“Do you know what he _did _to her?” Dean snapped. Sam looked away, his vision resting on the hunter journal in the box. He knew well the lines of her newest scars, the ones that covered the landscape of her body; the scars that were worse than the werewolf claws across her right cheek that had made her feel ugly for five years or the one across her left shin that kept her from wearing shorts. Sam knew her new scars, all created by a karambit held by Michael in Dean’s hands. Michael had left her barely alive, sent her back to the Bunker, a clear message not to try to find him, or stop him. “That she survived that…that she could still look me in my face after that…but she still _loved _me after that.”

“You didn’t do it, Dean. Michael did.”

“And it was _my _fault! My body, my face, my dumbass plan to save you and Jack. How could she not hold any grudge? How could she love me? I mean, that kind love…I don’t deserve that, Sam.”

Sam’s eyes snapped to his brother’s. “Are you telling me that you just crushed Y/n’s heart because you think you don’t deserve the unconditional love she’s freely offered from the moment she met you?” Dean rolled his eyes and took a drink. “You’re an idiot. You are the dumbest man in the history of dumb men. You just fucked away the greatest thing God ever gave you because you thought you didn’t deserve her?”

Sam sighed loudly and turned back around to continue packing. “And, of course, you didn’t just fuck _yourself_ out of Y/n, you fucked me, too. You fucked over Jack. ‘cause losing one mom wasn’t bad enough, right?”

Dean set his drink down on the dresser and stood, pulling Baby’s keys out of his pocket and leaving his room without another word.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“I’m sorry, buddy. I know I should have said ‘goodbye’.” You’d willed yourself to stop crying long enough to answer one of Jack’s phone calls. “It all just…it happened so fast, Jack.”

“But, are you coming back?”

You shook your head, your throat clenching as you tried to avoid another wave of tears. “No, I’m not. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but-”

“But I wanted to show you what I learned on YouTube. I-”

“I’m sorry. Jack, I’m sorry.”

“I just don’t understand why you had to leave. Don’t you like it here?”

“O-of course, I do, but…things are complicated.” How do you explain a catastrophic breakup to a toddler? “I _can’t _be there, buddy. I wish I could, but…you’re better off with the guys anyway. They can help you better than me. Look, uh, can you…can you tell Dean that I…sent him a package? It’ll be at the post office in…uh, I think three days.”

“Okay.”

“I, uh, I gotta go.”

“Okay.”

“You know you can call me if you ever need anything, right?”

“Yeah. Goodbye, Y/n.”

You stared at the ceiling of the motel room you’d grabbed after running from the bunker. How quickly your entire life had changed. A week ago, you were expecting to spend the rest of your life in Lebanon. Three months ago, you were half-dead in a hospital bed, having been almost destroyed by the archangel wearing the man you loved. You had nightmares of glowing blue eyes, of a curved blade tearing through your skin and the muscle under it, of him healing you just enough to keep you from dying of blood loss or shock.

You held on in hopes that Dean would come back some day, and he had. Dean came back and now? Now you were wishing Michael had just let you die in that hotel you tracked him down in.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Dean stared at the box sitting on the bench of the Impala for at least fifteen minutes, trying to decide whether he should open it. He knew what it was. Things he’d left in Y/n’s car, things he’d given her that she didn’t want anymore, maybe a nasty note. He sighed and pulled out his pocket knife, running the blade across the tape and opening the flaps. He bit his bottom lip as he pulled out a Led Zeppelin cassette, followed by an AC/DC band tee, a switchblade he was sure he’d lost years ago, his favorite pair of vice-grip pliers, and the simple heart necklace he’d given her for her birthday the year before.

Under all of that was the other necklace she always wore, the white gold chain with the thick sterling silver band that used to reside on Dean’s right hand. It was never anything special until she picked it up from his bedside table and claimed it as her own. It was nothing more than a bottle opener to him until she slipped it on that chain, until he saw her kissing it before she slipped it into her t-shirt every day.

There was no note. There was nothing she needed to say, and that was good. That meant she was done. Dean slipped the ring off of the chain and slid it onto his right ring finger, tossing everything into the box before pulling away from the Lebanon Post Office.

~~~~~~~~~~

“What do you mean ‘Jack’s dying’?” you asked, panic settling in your chest.

“When Lucifer took his grace-” Sam started.

“How long?” you demanded.

“Rowena thinks not long. Couple hours, maybe.”

“No. How long has he been _sick_? Why didn’t he tell me? Why didn’t _you_?”

“He was hiding it. He had a cough, but…we didn’t know.” Sam was silent for a minute. “Can you get here?”

“I’m in Orlando, Sam.” Your voice broke as you continued. “I’m nah-ot gonna get there in time.”

“Can you try?”

“Of course, I’ll try.”

You were absolutely exhausted by the time you made it to the Bunker. You hadn’t slept in three days and you were emotionally unprepared for Jack to be dead. He was a baby! How could he be dead? Sam greeted you in the garage, Jack right behind him. The Nephil didn’t even look slightly off. “We saved him,” Sam said, noticing your look of confusion.

Jack rushed forward, wrapping his arms around you and you crumbled. Tears streamed down your face as you wrapped your arms around him and buried your face in the boy’s chest. “It’s okay, Y/n. I’m okay.”

“Hey, what’s-” Dean’s voice was just audible over your sobs and it made you stiffen in Jack’s arms. “Oh. You called her?”

“Yeah, Dean. She deserved to be here,” Sam answered.

“Yeah, okay, well, he’s not dead anymore, so…”

“So, what, Dean?” Jack asked, pulling back to look at Dean. You didn’t. You looked at your feet. “She can’t leave. She just got here.”

“And she drove from Orlando in one go, Dean. She needs to rest,” Sam defended.

“It’s fine. I’ll just…the motel down the-”

“No!” Sam and Jack both shouted.

You shook your head. “Like I said, it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. I don’t think you should even be driving, right now. You look like a stiff breeze would knock you over,” Sam said, putting a large hand on your shoulder. “Come on, we’ll get you set up in one of the extra rooms. You can at least get some sleep before Dean chases you away again.”

Dean growled and stomped out of the garage. “Why is Dean angry?” Jack asked.

“He kinda hates me, Jack. Don’t worry. I’m not gonna let anything taint the fact that my Nephil buddy is alive and thriving.”

“How could he hate you?” Jack asked, curiously.

“He-” Sam started but shook his head. “Let’s just get you in bed, huh?”

“What happened to all the, uh, Apocalypse World folks?” you asked, tiredly, leaning into Sam’s embrace.

“Oh, they’re all out hunting. Out in the world, making things better. We got them in the habit of the check-ins and wearing the GoPros so…they don’t need to be here,” Sam answered.

“GoPros was a good idea, Sam,” you muttered as he led you into a nondescript room.

“What do you want for breakfast when you wake up, huh?” Sam asked as you dropped to the bed.

“We’ve got Krunch Cookie Crunch,” Jack offered with a smile.

“That stuff’ll rot your teeth,” Sam said, pulling your tennis shoes off and yanking the blanket back to let you under the thin brown fabric.

“Scrambled eggs. No teeth rot there,” you answered.

“Unless you cover them in ketchup,” Sam said, knowingly.

“Don’t reveal my secrets, Sam.”

He scoffed and stood as you snuggled into the pillow, heavy eyes falling closed and sleep dragging you down quickly.

~~~~~~~

“I told you that she needs to not be here, Sam.”

“Just because you can’t trust yourself to keep it in your fuckin’ pants when it comes to Y/n, that doesn’t mean you have to put her in danger by sending her away when she’s half-dead.”

“You’re the one who didn’t call her and tell her that Lily Sunder was bringing Jack back from the dead. She wouldn’t have done that 24-hour drive all at once if you’d told her Jack was fine.”

“I’m sorry, Dean, I got distracted by Jack dying and coming back.”

“Oh, bullshit! You _wanted _her here.”

“So? We _miss _her, Dean,” Sam argued, before he sighed. “And we’re about to go against Michael. Don’t you think she deserves to have the option to participate?” Dean opened his mouth to argue that Y/n shouldn’t be anywhere near Michael, but Sam continued. “He _tortured _her, Dean, which is worse than using your body and drowning you. She deserves to-”

“No the fuck she doesn’t! She doesn’t need to be anywhere near Michael, Sam. You can’t put her in that building with him.”

“Oh, but it’s fine for the rest of us? It’s fine for Garth? Dean, if she wants to go, none of us can stop her.”

Dean shook his head. “I hate this,” he said, stomping off.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“So, what do you think?” Castiel asked, licking his chapped lips as you pushed eggs around your plate with your fork.

You didn’t know what to think. Part of you really wanted to be there when Michael got what was coming to him. Part of you wanted to see an archangel’s eyes blow out with light, but the bigger part of you wanted to never be around Michael again. “I-I don’t know, Cas. Um…If you _need _me, I’m willing, but…” You swallowed to clear your suddenly dry throat, reaching out to pick up your coffee mug. “I just…”

“I understand.” Cas nodded. “Will you come to Kansas City? You don’t have to go against Michael, but I think it would be best for you to…to be there.”

You nodded. “Yeah, of course. I wouldn’t leave you guys hanging.”

Cas gave a tight smile. “Thank you. Jack is a lot happier when you’re here.”

“Dean’s not,” you responded, standing to toss the rest of your scrambled eggs in the trash.

The angel sighed, heavily. “Dean is complicated.”

“You don’t have to tell _me_, Cas.” You walked to the sink, grabbing a sponge and cleaning the plate. “You know I can’t stay, right? I’m so happy that Jack’s okay and I…I, obviously, can be around Dean now without breaking down, but…I can’t stay around him not for very long, anyway. It’s too much.”

“You’re still in love?”

You bit your lip, grabbing a dishrag and wiping the plate. “Of course. He could never hurt me enough to make me stop.”

“Y/n…”

“It’s not a big deal.” You set the plate on the counter and turned to him. “I always knew I wasn’t good enough for him, that someday…someday he’d realize that…someday he’d _remember_ that he’s Dean Winchester and that he could have almost any woman in the world.” A little shuddering sigh escaped you as you avoided looking at Cas. “Just wish he would’ve cast me out before Michael got his hands on me. I’d have far fewer scars to show if he _had_.”

You ran your hands across your shoulder and down. You’d counted them once. Well, not just once. You’d actually counted them several times, sitting in front of a floor-length mirror with a compact in your hand, making sure that the number came out the same every time. Three-hundred and thirty-three cuts. Ignoring the old scars, just counting the ones Michael tore into your flesh over the two days he had you, there were three hundred and thirty-three of them; A divine number.

Cas had tried, on more than one occasion when you first got out of the hospital, to heal the scars. Michael had done something to you that prevented Cas’ grace from touching you, a ‘force field’ as Jack had dubbed it. You were stuck with the scars.

You cleared your throat and turned away. “Anyway, I’ll head to Kansas City, get a bit of an advance recon going. You can call me when you…when you get there.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.”

“I really _should_.” You stepped forward, wrapped your arms around him, before running for your car.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The copper taste of blood in your mouth pulled you out of the unconscious state you were in. “No,” was all you could say to the vamp that got the drop on you.

“Just let it happen, Y/n,” a sharp-dressed, dark-skinned woman in clunky heels knelt down next to you. “You’ll be mine in a minute either way. It’ll go so much faster if you just let go.”

“Michael,” you groaned, trying to fight it as you could feel yourself turning.

“Do you remember what I said when I let you go, Y/n?” Michael asked, her eyes glowing blue as she ran her hand over your mouth to clean the blood off of you. “I told you that I have no need of broken, human hunters. What I have need of is _this_…you, hungry.”

“I won’t,” you started to deny, shaking your head as everything started to get louder. Hyper-senses.

“You _will_. Pick her up. Take her to Hitomi Plaza…and get her someone to eat.”

You tried to resist. When they locked you in that office at Hitomi Plaza, you tried to find a way out. When they shoved that trembling businessman through the door and quickly closed it behind him, you tried to ignore the sound of his heart pounding, how the smell of him made your mouth water. You tried to keep away from him, but you were so hungry.

Michael appeared next to you as you dropped the man to the floor, disgust eating at you because of how _satisfied _you felt. She smiled. “Now, do you see? Every desire you’ve ever had, they pale in comparison to this one, and this desire is so easily sated.” You blinked as she cupped your chin in her hands. “You’re mine, now.”

You nodded, looking up into her eyes. Now that the hunger was gone, you could feel Michael’s grace flowing through you. You were Michael’s. “Good girl. Now, how about a treat?” You could feel grace pouring into your skin from her palms and when she pulled away smiling, you ran your hand over your right cheek. No raised tissue met your fingertips, the scars on your face gone. “Much more pleasing to the eye without those scars.”

“Thank you,” you whispered. “But wh-”

“Why?” Michael smirked. “Because I found you deserving. You proved your strength…here.” She pointed to one of the scars on your stomach. “I gave you three hundred and thirty-three cuts. You gave me tears and blood in return, vomit at one point, but you did not, not _once_, beg me to stop or to end your life. You are strong. But I don’t want a strong human, Y/n.”

“You needed a monster.”

“_Wanted_,” Michael corrected, before continuing. “I knew you’d be here, in Kansas City. I knew one of my army would find you. I incentivized them to turn you instead of killing you like we’ll be doing with the other hunters. And now, when the boys arrive, you’ll be here to greet them with me.”

You nodded. Suddenly, all you wanted was to show the Winchesters the new you. You felt your fangs poke out of your gums again in your excitement. “Put your fangs away, dear. Don’t want to ruin the surprise, do we?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You watched from the CCTV in the security room as Michael beat Castiel bloody, while Sam, Jack and Dean infiltrated the office in an attempt to catch Michael by surprise. Of course the archangel knew they were there and called to you with her grace, bidding you to join them. You walked into the penthouse office as Michael’s female vessel dropped to the ground. You could feel Michael reenter Dean and it made you smile. It was right. He was stronger in Dean, better.

Michael stepped forward a few steps to look out at the lights of the city.

“Dean?” Cas said, confused.

You couldn’t see their faces from behind them, but you could see their bodies go tense as Michael broke the spear in half. You smiled as Michael turned, eyes glowing brightly. “No,” Sam denied. Their hearts were pounding and you felt yourself getting hungry again just from the sound of it.

“Yeah.” Michael’s eyes faded to a dark green. “When I gave up Dean, you didn’t think to question it, to ask why? Dean was…resisting me. He was too attached to you, to all of you.” He beckoned you closer and you came around Jack’s right side as he continued speaking. “He wouldn’t stop squirming…to get out, get back. So I left…” You swiped the crystal tumbler off of the coffee table and handed it to him.

“…but not without leaving the door open…” He licked his lips. “…just a crack.”

“Y/n?” Jack questioned, eyes wide and confused.

“Oh, don’t worry about Y/n. She was just the first in a long line of things I ruined for Dean.”

“Why wait?” Castiel asked.

“The same reason I scarred Y/n; to break him. To crush and disappoint him so completely that, this time, he’ll be nice and quiet for a change-” He reached out and ran his hand across your cheek. “-buried. And he is. He’s gone.”

You licked your lips as he drank down the rest of the liquor in the glass. “And _now_, I have a whole army out there…” He spread his arms dramatically to show the scale of his city-wide attack plan before turning to you and winking. “…and _here_, waiting, ready for my command, ready…for this.”

Michael didn’t have to _tell _you what to do as he snapped his fingers and your fangs descended, ready to attack at the behest of your master, your savior, the only one who ever saw you as deserving of anything.


End file.
